


My Name is Philip

by sExYcOrN



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, POV First Person, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i am a pot, my name is flip, my name is philip i am a poet, my name is poet i am a philip, philip is a smol bean and we shall protect him at all costs, philip's pov, the smallest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sExYcOrN/pseuds/sExYcOrN
Summary: My name is poetI am a Philip





	My Name is Philip

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting here, so please be nice. Or not. Whatever floats your boat.

I pace back and forth in the sitting room, ringing my hands nervously. Mommy stands up from the piano bench and takes my hand.

“Philip, there’s no need to worry, you’ll be fine,” she consoles me.

“But what if I mess up the words? What if Daddy doesn’t like it? He seems stressed all the time and I don’t want to upset him!” A tear falls from my cheek and I start to pace more. Mommy takes my hand again, but I’m too ashamed to face her.

“Philip, darling, you’ve been practicing all day, I’m sure you won’t mess up. And Daddy could never be upset by you; he adores you! ...Would it make you feel better if we practiced again?” Mommy asks.

I look up at her and nod. “Okay.”

Mommy smiles. “Great.”

I glance at the paper that has my lyrics written down. I then place in on the table. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Mommy starts beatboxing, which is my cue. I start rapping, “Daddy, daddy, look! My name is poet, I am a Philip GOSH DARN IT I MESSED UP AGAIN!”

“Philip, everyone messes up sometimes! And if you want, you can look at your lyrics while you perform for Daddy,” Mommy suggests.

I shrug. “I guess.”

Mommy walks upstairs, then soon comes back with Daddy. Daddy sits down on the couch.

“Philip, take it away!” Mommy exclaimes. She starts beatboxing, and I look at my paper while stepping to the beat.

“Daddy, Daddy, look! name is Philip, I am a poet, and I wrote this poem just to show it, and I just turned nine. You can write rhymes but you can’t write mine!”

“What!” Daddy exclaimes.

I’m doing it! I realize I don’t need the paper anymore, so I toss it aside and start bouncing.

“I practice French and play piano with my mother, I have a sister but I want a little brother.”

“Okay!” Daddy laughs.

“My daddy’s trying to start America’s bank, UN DEUX TROIS QUATRE CINQ!”

Daddy stands up and applauds. “Bravo!”

I jump up in down in victory. I did it without messing up! Daddy looks so happy. I know he loves me, but he doesn’t pay attention to me a lot because he’s always busy with work, but that doesn’t matter right now.


End file.
